Wordplay and testicles: a winning combination!

The first film Robert ever saw was "Austin Powers in Goldmember." He was about four months old, the weather was hot as an Air Popper, and his mama and daddy were eager to plop down into the cold darkness, turn off our anguished brains, and absorb a couple hours of pure silliness. With luck, Robert would nurse and fall asleep, leaving us to exhale for a bit and (quite probably) fall asleep.

The HMS Filmtanic cruised along at full speed for a while, but we hit the iceberg when Robert woke up in a strange, dark, dank, percussive peopletank and started squalling. All attempts to comfort him were useless, so mama volunteered to take him out to the corridor and watch through the crack in the doors. I spent the rest of the film scuttling back and forth, and the only thing I remembered about the wacky denouement is the gag that brought the house down: when Austin comes face-to-arse with Dr. Evil's bare backside and says,
"I used to think you were crazy, but now I can see your nuts."

Goldmember has been in reliable rotation on basic cable for years now, and I've lamented how they've always cut this gag. I've sort of hoped that one day social mores might loosen up enough to let a harmless junk reference squeak through the FCC's gnarled stricture, but as I watched over the weekend with Robert I was certain that day had not yet come.

It has.

And the feeling is bittersweet. For even though we should rejoice that the FCC has decided there's no harm in talking about man-grapes, Robert now thinks that joke is about the funniest thing ever ever ever ever. Everything is all balls, all the time.

Something tells me I better wear a helmet to that first parent-teacher conference.

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Wordplay and testicles: a winning combination!

The first film Robert ever saw was "Austin Powers in Goldmember." He was about four months old, the weather was hot as an Air Popper, and his mama and daddy were eager to plop down into the cold darkness, turn off our anguished brains, and absorb a couple hours of pure silliness. With luck, Robert would nurse and fall asleep, leaving us to exhale for a bit and (quite probably) fall asleep.

The HMS Filmtanic cruised along at full speed for a while, but we hit the iceberg when Robert woke up in a strange, dark, dank, percussive peopletank and started squalling. All attempts to comfort him were useless, so mama volunteered to take him out to the corridor and watch through the crack in the doors. I spent the rest of the film scuttling back and forth, and the only thing I remembered about the wacky denouement is the gag that brought the house down: when Austin comes face-to-arse with Dr. Evil's bare backside and says,
"I used to think you were crazy, but now I can see your nuts."

Goldmember has been in reliable rotation on basic cable for years now, and I've lamented how they've always cut this gag. I've sort of hoped that one day social mores might loosen up enough to let a harmless junk reference squeak through the FCC's gnarled stricture, but as I watched over the weekend with Robert I was certain that day had not yet come.

It has.

And the feeling is bittersweet. For even though we should rejoice that the FCC has decided there's no harm in talking about man-grapes, Robert now thinks that joke is about the funniest thing ever ever ever ever. Everything is all balls, all the time.

Something tells me I better wear a helmet to that first parent-teacher conference.